


Tits of Truth

by ang3lba3, Mellomailbox



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Domestic Avengers, Established Relationship, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Secret Relationship, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24070315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: “So there’s Will Elope, Friends with Benefits, Secretly Married,” Steve ticks off his fingers. Bucky makes an affirmative sound, mouth currently occupied.“Who’s got drunken alley fuck?” Bucky asks, lifting his head to do so. Steve tugs at his hair a little and pouts.Wherein: Steve and Bucky rig a bet, multiple people invade other's privacy, and Natasha forms a scholarship fund.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 218
Collections: Stucky: Canon Divergence





	Tits of Truth

“So,” Clint says loudly, crowded by the water cooler with the rest of the strike team. (Strike team is a generous title; it’s Clint, Natasha, and a couple of basic soldiers dumped on them by Fury.)

“So,” Natasha agrees, already amused. 

Steve and Bucky are signing out Bucky’s weapons for his next op one floor over. The Tower is on a grid system, much like New York City herself, and with the advanced vibranium panelling lining every wall the conversation should be incomprehensible all the way on this end of the building. 

There was a conversation that Bucky and Steve had shortly after Bucky surrendered himself, when he was at the beginning of his recovery. It took every ounce of effort they had to just exist next to each other again, and they were both pouring in the elbow grease. They were reading _not_ Howling Commandos comics, stacks of DC and the small independent studios piled around them. 

“It’s like Superman,” Bucky had said. “Where he can hear it all, but he chooses to ignore.” Steve had wrinkled his nose. 

“You can’t hear that far.” 

Bucky had kicked him, and Steve’d nearly grinned hard enough to crack a jaw. 

“No shit, dumbass. But I can hear a lot more than I could, and without their help,” help, meaning drugs, “I don’t know how to turn it off.” 

They both know how to turn it off, now. There’d been a very scary week for feral cats within two blocks of the tower, before he had learned. But it’s off, while Bucky’s whispering naughty things to the machine gun laying on the counter between him and the weapons locker, and the conversation occuring one floor over is almost missed. 

But Natasha _laughs._

Steve turns, as if she’s in the same hall as him, eyes going distant. 

“You’re joking,” she’s saying to Clint. She’s genuinely amused, not the empty stuff she usually pulls out. 

“I’m not asking you to bet on whether or not they’re fucking,” Clint says breezily. “I’m asking whether Steve bottoms or not.”

“What makes you think they’re fucking at all?” She says. One of the soldiers starts choking, either from the Black Widow saying the word ‘fucking’ or from the context of the conversation. Someone else starts slapping his back. 

“Natasha. I may be deaf, but I have _eyes._ And what do you have? No excuses, that’s what. Should be ashamed to call yourself an intelligence agent. Brian, don’t look at me like that, I know you put down 50 on ‘caught on tape by Christmas’. Yeah. Yeah, walk away, Brian.”

Steve started slapping Bucky the moment Natasha dropped the F bomb. He’s grinning like a loon, and Bucky’s ignoring him in favor of trying to barter the locker attendant into giving some explosives, pushing at Steve’s hand absently where it’s swatting at his face. 

A secret betting pool about them, without a court martial at the other end. 

It’s fucking Christmas and The Fourth of July and his birthday (so, it’s Christmas and the Fourth of July he guesses).

“Bucky!” Steve hisses. Bucky wrinkles his nose at him. 

“What is your problem, four year old Steven? Did you see Santa? Is there a new pair of suspenders on sale at the Macey’s window?” 

“Clint! I’m not helping you bug _the Winter Soldier’s_ bedroom!” Natasha says, so loudly that Bucky’s head snaps towards her.

“ _Yes to all of it,_ ” Steve answers, literally bouncing on his heels. “It’s a buy-one-get-three.”

“ _Santa,_ you naughty boy,” Bucky whistles. The weapons attendant doesn’t even react, used to Bucky’s deadly weapon paraphilia and essentially numb. 

“His fire escape. The alley. Natasha! Come back here! We still have to go to work, Natasha!” Clint is saying rooms away.

“We have so much money already,” Bucky says. He’s not smiling, but only because Steve stole all the cheer in a four mile radius. 

“But none of that money belonged to Clint first,” Steve says, turns his back on the artillery librarian and pouts. 

“What’re you even gonna do with it,” Bucky asks, pocketing a grenade. “But a new set of corduroys?”

“Humiliate Clint,” Steve says. And then, generously, “Or you?”

Bucky’s attention is on Steve, then, sharp. A sniper’s gaze. Somehow, Steve’s grin widens. 

“I’ll buy a new sweater, humiliate myself,” Steve decides. “Some nice chinos.”

“You can’t make me a _promise,_ ” Bucky says, mind racing with all of the ways that Steve could humiliate him. Together. In the bedroom, ideally. Outside of it. “And then try and backpeddal, you fucking coward.” 

“Of course I can,” Steve says, and swipes a single hair out of his eyes. “I’ve been trained extensively on the unicycle, I’ll have you know.”

“Jesus,” Bucky laughs, and musses up Steve’s hair. “You’re a knucklehead. Sad how the world relies on that empty brain of yours.” 

“Sirs,” the counter worker says, eyes blank and tight with the existential dread of a dreary job. “There’s a line forming.”

“So there is,” Steve says, and picks up 6 guns at once in a horrendous display of bad trigger discipline. Half of the line ducks, and the other half slams themselves to the floor.

“You’re the brains,” Steve sighs as Bucky snatches them away. 

“You just did that to get out of carrying them,” Bucky says. 

“Lotta planning for a boob like me,” Steve says, and lumbers toward the doorway, nodding and smiling apologetically and patriotically at his cowering coworkers. They nod-smile tearfully and patriotically back.

***

Steve probably forgets about the bet, distracted as his big, dumb head gets. Some days Bucky can almost forget how he was like as a little guy, think that when the serum thickened his skull it squeezed some brain out. But it hadn’t. He’s just like that.

Bucky doesn’t forget. It’s all that he can think about, the days afterwards, because Steve hasn’t played with him the way that they used to. He’d resigned himself to that part of their relationship dying with them back in the 30s, and had come to find a sort of peace in it. 

They still make love. They’re practically _married,_ as much as two fellas can be, and nothing gets in the way of that. (Those are Steve’s heartfelt words, obviously.) 

But the _fun_ stuff? Bucky’d assumed that ship had long sailed. And yet, here’s Steve, barging back in with a scheme, foghorn blaring. And here Bucky is, on the docks with his bags packed, ready to climb aboard at the first opportunity. 

Well, at least he’s gone for someone like Steve, and not the alternative. 

Finding out who’s in on the bet is easy. Finding out what they bet, and on what, is also easy. Placing an alternate bet— now that’s gonna take some planning, if only because they wanna stir the pot a bit first. Get blood pumping. Get a real _investor,_ a real _entrepreneur_ interested. In short: they need to get Tony to bet oh, why not start at a million dollars.

Anyone who’s read a blurb about Steve knows he can’t lie for shit. That’s all true, probably the only true thing they ever wrote about him. 

The thing that makes Steve dangerous, that has Natasha on him like a cat on a scratching post, is that he can lie while being completely sincere and truthful. The bastard can work a conversation so that he never has to fib at all; you just fill in the lies for him, and make leaps of judgements, and do all the work that he never has to. 

His favorite starter is _now, would Captain America do something like **that?**_

“I’m not Captain America,” Steve tells him. “It’s the Shield and the uniform. And those fellas aren’t _any_ fun at all.” 

“Uh-huh,” Bucky intones, twirling spaghetti on his fork into a giant roll. “And I ain’t a fucking assassin, just some hardware on a tool.” 

“Now Bucky,” Steve says disapprovingly, “You know that we’re supposed to be working on couple-affirmations this week. This week you’re a _dildo_ on a tool.”

Bucky yells in outrage, mostly cause Steve’s angling for that reaction, and shoves him off of his seat with a powerful shove of his boot. He angrily eats his spaghetti, cheeks bulging, also because it’ll make Steve laugh.

Steve takes his plate down with him, lands facedown in the pasta, and gamely keeps slurping.

“The dedication to your craft is inspiring,” Bucky says around his mouthful, sliding down to the floor next to him. “Regular Abbott and Costello, you are.” 

“Oh yeah? This ain’t the only thing I can suck down my throat,” Steve says, covered in sauce from the bridge of his nose down. 

“Gettin’ warm just lookin’ at ya, kitten,” Bucky replies, deadpan. 

Steve sticks his tongue out, which still has some half chewed strands on it, and licks around his own mouth with a _slorp-pop._

“Um,” one of the guys who’d chosen to eat mess at the 6:30 slot says, “is this…” He chickens out and ducks his head, staring at his own plate of untouched noodles like they’re going to jump out and make sex jokes at him. 

“What can I do you for, soldier?” Steve says in his Steven Rogers, Captain America impression. It almost makes you forget that he’s propped up on his elbows, eating practically off the linoleum floor. 

“...I think I’m going to take this to my room.” 

“You have a good night, now!” Steve bellows cheerfully.

Bucky’s shoving pasta into his mouth so fast that he almost chokes himself, eyes streaming in his attempt not to crack up. HYDRA thought that torture was effective, but there’s nothing like trying to keep a straight face around Steve Rogers that’ll really test your facial discipline. 

“Weird how we always end up eating alone in the mess hall, huh, buddy?” Steve muses, and then deepthroats a meatball, kicking his legs up behind him and crossing his ankles.

“It’s almost like we’re bad company,” Bucky agrees, swallowing a spicy sausage seductively. 

“That can’t be it,” Steve says. Someone else opens the door, sees Steve, sees Bucky, sees the empty room filled with discarded trays and sloppily dropped meals, and leaves before stepping fully into the room.

“Then it’s probably that ugly knob of yours,” Bucky decides, reaching over to grab Steve’s nose. “Ruins my appetite too, y’know. It’s bad for my health!”

“That sexual harassment seminar was very clear about where my knob should stay while on SHIELD property,” Steve says in a nasally voice.

“Sexual harassment seminar,” Bucky scoffs, “back in _my_ day, you sexually harassed someone and the guys took you out back and gave you the five-knuckle seminar on manners.” 

Steve squints. “Did they? I mean, the seminar was pretty clear that—”

“BACK IN MY DAY, we walked uphill in a blizzard _both ways_ to—”

“I’m just sayin, Buck, fisting the harasser ain’t gonna solve nothing, now you got a _bunch_ of harassers, and what’s he gonna do, get another row of people in on it? Within 18 cycles the entire _world_ will be sexually harassing—”

“That’s the _multi-level marketing seminar,_ you hack! Did you not pay any attention in accounting school?”

“I went to clown school,” Steve says, and points at his sauce red nose, the way it forms a round bulb between Bucky’s fingertips.

“Clint bugged your rooms,” Natasha says, perched on the table. She’s eating an entire carrot casually, cross legged on the aluminum, mildly amused. It’s peeled, leafy, and of unclear origin. They must be off their game if they can’t even get a smile out of her. 

“If he wants to hear this, he can come to the mess hall like everyone else,” Bucky snaps.

“So did you, I bet,” Steve guesses. Bucky and Natasha both shake their heads, brown and red curls tumbling.

“Nah, she knows better than that. If she wants intel, she’s just gotta go through your underwear drawer and she’s got all the secrets she needs. “ 

“Stop telling people where I keep my journal,” Steve says, and finally pulls away from Bucky’s hand.

“That’s bad opsec,” Natasha hums, carrot chunks spraying as she talks. 

“You’re bad opsec,” Steve mutters, then wipes his face off on Bucky’s shin. He barely dodges the retaliatory kick.

“Probably,” she agrees, and steps directly in Steve’s spaghetti as she leaves. 

“She likes me better,” Bucky decides smugly. 

“Obviously,” Steve says, and sighs. He looks at his ruined dinner, and then at the ruined mess hall, and says, “Thai?”

***

“Cap! Get your ass in gear, the alarm just went off!” Tony snaps. Steve’s already moving, vaulting the couch dramatically and rushing to meet Tony in the elevator. Bucky doesn’t move, just tenses, not allowed on missions that aren’t pre-approved. 

Steve skids to a stop, grabs him by the back of the neck, and lays a huge, sloppy kiss on his cheek. 

“Cheer up, pal! You can watch us on the Tee Vee television!” He says, jogging the rest of the way to the elevator. 

“I’ll watch you on the telly-phone cellular device,” Bucky calls mockingly after him.

“Am I watching a soap opera? Rogers! Barnes!” Tony says, throwing his arms up. Steve skids into the elevator, and Bucky blows a kiss.

The elevator doors close on Tony’s spluttering, cutting off the way Bucky’s face falls as he’s left alone. 

Well. Steve can give him a little gift, at least. Antagonizing a Stark has always been a mutual favorite past-time of theirs, after all. JARVIS brings them to the roof as Tony rants, mostly incomprehensibly. Steve sticks his hands in his back pockets casually, clicking the record button on his cell phone. 

“Now, I voted for Obama, just like any good man, so what I don’t understand is why you didn’t _trust me_ sooner! I personally fund a solid quarter of the Pride Parade every year! I BUY THE FLOATING FLOAT TECHNOLOGY FOR THEM, STEVE.”

Steve gives him the pleasantly polite but blank look that he affords people when he wants them to know that he has no idea what they’re saying but knows it’s rude to tell them that explicitly. 

“I can’t believe you went on Ellen, and you didn’t say anything to her! Ellen, Steve! Do you know how bad I wanna go on Ellen? But _no,_ you have a whole half hour segment, and it’s all, _can’t believe what laundromats are like these days,_ and _turnip and cabbage stew_ and _I put newspaper in my shoes_!” Tony shakes his fists. “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING, DO YOU?!”

“Oh look, we’re here,” Steve says cheerfully as the doors open. “You think it’s gonna be a giant bug again?”

“We. Are having _words_ about this,” Tony promises darkly. “And if you don’t invite me to the wedding, I’m— I’m evicting you.”

“Who’s getting hitched?” Steve asks innocently. Clint tosses him his gear as they board the aircraft, ears perking. 

“You and Pepper finally settling down? Good for her. Make sure she writes up a good prenup, and the life insurance--” 

Natasha smacks him upside the back of his head and he turns wounded puppy eyes on her, fixing a hearing aid where it came lose. 

“Don’t say that so loud!” Tony squawks. “Good God man, what if she hears you!?”

“What’s the mission?” Steve asks, and Natasha answers, and that’s that on that.

***

Tony places half a million on ‘will elope’.

***

“So there’s _Will Elope, Friends with Benefits, Secretly Married,_ ” Steve ticks off his fingers. Bucky makes an affirmative sound, mouth currently occupied. 

“Who’s got drunken alley fuck?” Bucky asks, lifting his head to do so. Steve tugs at his hair a little and pouts. 

“We can’t get drunk, that’s more than a longshot,” he says. “There’s two more slots, right?” 

“Mhm,” Bucky says, ducking back between Steve’s legs at the not-so-gentle urging of Steve’s fingers in his hair. 

“So mister secret agent. Did you see what they were? Where’s my intel, sargeant?” Steve asks him. Bucky lets his teeth scrape next to sensitive bits, and Steve takes the hint. 

“ _Please,_ ” he asks, sweet as condensed milk, rolling his eyes. 

“The fucking manners on you,” Bucky gripes, wiping at his mouth as he props up on one elbow. Steve’s stroking his eyebrow with the hand not tugging his hair. It’s nice, but not doing him any favors in the strategizing department. “Your ma would be ashamed.” 

“You leave my ma outta this bed, James Buchannan,” Steve snipes.

“You leave my _name_ outta this bed,” Bucky says, and makes a face. “You sound like _my_ ma when you do that.”

They both make identical faces of revulsion and silently agree to move the conversation along.

“The fourth slot is ‘aliens make them do it’,” Bucky says, and then swallows him back down before he can ask questions.

“ _Please,_ ” Steve begs, sincerely this time, if a little breathless. “Please, _please_ can we pick that one to win, I would be the _happiest_ probed man in the world! _Yeah_ , like _that_.” 

Bucky pulls off with a pop and Steve groans, hips pinned by Bucky’s metal hand where they’re squirming. “But I didn’t even tell ya the bet I placed.”

“What bet did you place?”

“You’ll see,” Bucky says. “Now shuddup, I’m tryna work here.”

***

“I know what this is,” Bucky says. Dread drips from his voice and trickles around the members of the round table. Anytime HYDRA comes up there’s the heavy hush of anticipation and fear, doubly so when Bucky’s the one initiated the conversation. 

The package had been left on the front stoop addressed to _The Avengers_ , hastily scribbled, _it’s a bomb!_ underneath it. JARVIS had checked the package, of course, and his scanners showed that there was no explosive material within it. However, when asking for a full workup, he had been unable to provide one. 

Tony had opened it, and some viscous black substance had hit Steve and Bucky straight in the face. Steve is wiping at his right now, staring at the string it makes between his face and fingertips.

“No one ask me or Steve a question,” Bucky barks. 

“Why?” Tony asks immediately.

“Because we’ll be compelled to answer it truthfully,” Bucky says, the words dragged out of him, face red with effort, hands gripping the metal and glass conference table so hard it creaks.

“Truth serum?!” Clint asks gleefully. Natasha’s giving the both of them a hard look, arms crossed. 

“Yeeees,” Bucky says, throat convulsing.

“Look, I don’t say this often, but that’s just not possible.” Natasha holds up her palm in a call for silence when Clint and Tony both start arguing. Bruce is sitting calmly at the table, running through a biological analyses of the substance provided by JARVIS. 

“Then no need to test it,” Bucky says loudly, and starts dragging a bemused Steve out of the room. 

“Bucky! Bucky, stop it, why are you in such a hurry to get out of here?” Steve laughs. 

“Because I don’t want to tell you my secret!” Bucky says. 

Everyone stops. Even Bruce’s hand freezes on the tablet, eyes going wide. 

“JARVIS! Doors!” Tony snaps, and the doors immediately hiss and click, locking them in. “Rogers,” Tony says, sharply. “What’s something sexual you’ve thought about Natasha?”

“She has an amazing rack,” Steve says, and then claps a hand over his mouth. He immediately takes it off. “That’s not okay! I’m so sorry, Natasha— Ms Romanov— I would _never_ think something like that— or, I mean, I wouldn’t _say_ I thought somethin’ like that—”

Natasha’s staring at them stonily, arms crossed under said rack as Clint howls with laughter next to her, palm slapping the table. It’s Tony who gets the punch from Bucky’s metal fist, right in the arm.

“Ow! What’s that for, tin-can!”

“I don’t like the way that you treat Natasha and wish she’d show you the hard way that it’s disrespectful,” he answers in a rush, as if reciting lines.

“It’s still impossible,” Natasha says. 

“Hey,” Clint says, eyes narrowed. “I have a question!”

“This is an abuse,” Steve sputters, and Bucky’s eyes go wide as he looks around for a place to hide. He dives underneath the table just as Clint says,

“Are you and Steve boning?” 

“We’re constantly making mistakes,” Steve says, looking annoyed. “What kinda—” 

“Do you _looooove_ him?” Clint asks, not deterred in the least by Steve’s redirection.

Bucky’s reply is muffled by the carpet fibers he’s started eating, but Steve’s isn’t. 

“More than anything,” he admits easily, staunchly.

“This proves nothing,” Tony points out. “Did you elope?”

“Is that a type of melon?” Steve asks.

“Bucky!” Clint howls, “How do you feel about Steve! In your heart of hearts, your truest, purest--” 

“I WANNA SUCK ON HIS TITTIES,” Bucky yells. 

“Uh,” Steve says, flushing a color that a normal human man probably shouldn’t.

“Emotionally.” Bucky says stiffly. “I wanna emotionally suck his titties. Because we’re friends. And friends --”

“Don’t keep friend’s mammary glands from each other?” Steve chokes out.

“They shouldn’t!” Bucky says passionately, and bursts upwards, forgetting he’s under a table and flipping it behind him. The glass top shatters. “Goddamnit Steve, look at the world! Look at how far it’s come, and tell me you don’t think about it. Do you think about it?”

“NOW I DO,” Steve yells. “I don’t got tits Buck, I ain’t a _dame—”_

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN,” Bucky shrieks, grabbing both of Steve’s tits where they’re perky and round above the uniform’s corset. “They’re right _here_!”

“I mean if you’re looking for a wife, I ain’t her!” Steve says, and jabs a finger into Bucky’s face, nearly straight up his nose. “I’m a man, Buck, I’m 100% American grade _beef._ ”

“JARVIS, are you recording this?” Tony asks the ceiling.

“Always, sir,” JARVIS’ smooth voice declares.

“Are you,” Bucky asks, blinking rapidly. 

“Awh, hell, Buck. I’m sorry. We shoulda’ never opened that box, then you coulda’ kept your secret and your pride.” 

All heads turn to look at Clint accusingly. He pales. “It was Tony who opened it!”

“Are you saying,” Buck says in a wobbly voice. “That you don’t feel the same way?”

“I have never once wanted to suck on your titties,” Steve says solemnly.

“But emotionally? Have you emotionally wanted to suck on my—”

“Maybe! Yes!” Steve shoves Bucky away from him. “Stop askin’ me things when you know I gotta answer! It’s— it’s _wrong_ , this is _wrong._ ”

“Is he doing old homophobe?” Tony asks in an incredulous undertone. “Barnes has been holding his chest for five minutes and he’s doing old homophobe?”

“No, Tony,” Steve snaps, rubbing at his chest now that Bucky’s let go, “You don’t talk about _private_ stuff in mixed company. _That’s_ what I’m saying.” 

“It’s because we ain’t married, isn’t it?” Bucky asks.

“OF COURSE IT’S BECAUSE WE’RE UNMARRIED,” Steve bellows, the answer dragged out of him.

Bucky drops to one knee. “Steve—”

Steve, in a fit of terror, kicks him in the face and runs out of the room.

Bruce stands, pockets the device he’d been using, and strolls casually out of the room. Natasha turns slowly to Tony, a panther examining her prey, and Clint takes the opportunity to slither out of the window while she’s distracted. 

“I’m coming for you later,” she calls after him. 

“Now, now,” Tony chuckles uncomfortably. “What’s some misogynistic sexual harassment between teammates, eh?”

***

“Hey, sugar,” Bucky greets Steve, dropping from where he’d been spying on everyone from the rafters. It’s Clint’s usual spot, but Bucky likes to keep him on his toes by claiming the territory as his every so often. 

“I washed the truth serum off,” Steve says, lip jutting out stubbornly, arms crossed over his… _titties._ “Ask me anythin’, I don’t gotta say nothin’.”

JARVIS is recording here, just like he is most places in the building.

“Wanna neck?” Bucky asks.

Steve tilts his head, tosses his hair in a fiddly kind of way, and then grabs the hem of Bucky’s shirt. “Nah,” he says, this time right up against Bucky’s mouth.

“Oh, well, in that case,” Bucky says, and then they’re making out, unable to hide their grins. 

***

Bucky collects the money the next day and gives Natasha her share. He also sends Pepper the heels she’s been eyeing, the ones with the little guns in the heels, as a thank you for writing a script that made JARVIS falsify the contents of the ‘truth serum.’ 

“How DARE YOU,” Tony yells as he stabs at his mobile banking app. 

“My titties bleed for you,” Steve intones. “The account ending in 5823, please.”

“What kind of manipulation programming called for this?” Tony snaps at Bucky. A year ago it would have landed, but now he just grins, spinning the keys to one of Tony’s lamborghinis on his metal finger. 

“Good ole’ Brooklyne street learnin’,” he answers. “Ya ever think about how you’re predictable enough that we had to cut Natasha in beforehand? An insult to manipulation at that point, to call it manipulating.”

“If you’re short on cash you could have just _asked,_ ” Tony tries, needing the high ground. 

“I’m not short on cash,” Steve says. “The Brooklyn Children’s Hospitals are.”

“So’s the Washington D.C. Veteran’s Community Shelter,” Bucky adds, eyeing Steve as he blushes. “I made sure that the check was to a mister Samuel Wilson directly. From, Captain America.” 

“ _Bucky,_ ” Steve moans, covering his pinking face with a giant shovel hand.

“Don’t forget Natasha’s scholarship fund for ‘People Who Play Fortnite, but Really Badly’,” Bucky pulls a flier out of his pocket, waves it around. “Tony, I think you qualify. Wanna get your money back?”

“You don’t even _know what Fortnite is,”_ Tony hisses, grabbing the flier and crumpling it up.

Bucky, without moving a facial muscle, breaks into dance. Steve, without lowering his hands from his face, joins him as best he can.

“How’d you hear about the bet, anyways?” Clint asks from where he’s sulking in a lesser rafter that’s not been claimed by Bucky. Yet.

“We’re Superman,” Steve says seriously.

“What the fuck does that mean,” Clint asks. 

“Hey, Steve, wanna neck?” Bucky asks, Tony throwing his hands up in the air as Steve tips Bucky dramatically and smooches him all over his face. 

“Nah,” Steve says, and then puts his tongue into Bucky’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> find ang3lba3 on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cryingiscooltm)


End file.
